


Next To Mine

by redbellpepper



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Future Fic, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Series, it's time for the boys to find themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26621041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbellpepper/pseuds/redbellpepper
Summary: When all is said and done, Dean finds his way to a wife, a child, and a white picket fence.When all is said and done, Dean still aches for something else.. . . . .A story about finding yourself through immeasurable loss and timeless love.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I had saved on my computer for AGES!! And then my computer completely died and stayed dead for YEARS, and I was so devastated that I lost this, until my boyfriend used his tech powers to revive it, and it was FATE that this popped right back up.
> 
> Here's my post-series Dean-gets-an-apple-pie-life-but-can't-get-Cas-out-of-his-head angsty, dramatic, hurt/comfort fic full of yearning. So much yearning, you guys. I wrote it before the series ended obviously, so get ready for some vague "oh yeah, they saved the world and stuff" coverage of events. It's mostly about Dean learning to let himself want what he wants, and Cas learning to stand up to love for once.
> 
> Also, Sam's dead in this. LOL. SORRY. He's literally my favorite character but I didn't know what to do with him, so, yikes

“Cas was a celestial being.”

Dean decides that this is the perfect phrase. If he’d said, “Cas was an angel,” then Ben might’ve thought that it was a pet name, and he would be giving Dean a look even more disgusted and betrayed than the one he wore now.

And If Dean said, “Cas was an angel of the Lord,” well, then, Dean probably wouldn’t be able to say much more, at least not without the help of the expensive whiskey.

“A celestial being—like an angel?”

Well, shit. Maybe Dean should be giving the kid more credit.

Though he’s not really a kid, is he? He’s an adult, young and naïve and full of so much talent and potential. An adult capable of meeting his stepfather’s eye and wringing out the truth so that the words dripped like cold tears on the dark oak kitchen table between them.

“Yeah. An angel. He was sent down from God to pull me out of hell.”

“And when you say ‘hell,’ you mean—”

“I mean, below-the-crust-of-the-earth, ring-of-fire, devil-may-come hell. Yeah. I made a bad deal with a demon and got tossed down under in my late twenties. Cas got me out of it. I didn’t officially meet him until I dug my way out from six feet under, but yeah, he – ” _I was the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition._ “He got me outta there, alright.”

“Isn’t every deal with a demon a ‘bad deal?’” Ben scoffed, and Dean nearly laughed. “And, wait – he got you out of hell, but made you dig yourself out of the ground? Seems petty.”

“I – huh.” Dean felt a familiar burning sensation bloom behind his eyes, though he didn’t know why. “Well, yeah. I guess. Never thought of it that way. Petty Cas.”

“So, you owed him. That’s how all this started. He helped you out of a tight spot and you felt like you needed to return the favor.”

Dean loved watching Ben’s mind (and mouth) work. He never thought without speaking those ideas aloud, running away with hypotheses and theories a mile a minute, so that Dean could hardly ever keep up with him. Dean watched Ben’s freckled nose crinkle as he sniffed, chilly in the cold autumn air drifting through the open kitchen window. He remembered watching Ben graduate college and thinking of Sammy. He thought of Sammy a lot, the more Ben grew up.

Dean couldn’t ruin Ben, too.

“Can I tell the story?” Dean asked, and Ben’s face remained dismal. “It never started out as a – I never had to return any favor. I stabbed the guy thirty seconds after we met. I hated him for a while. He hated me, too.”

_I’ve gotten too close to the humans in my charge._

“Doesn’t sound like he hated you.”

_You._

“He – it was – it was always complicated, the relationship between an angel and a human – can I just tell the story?” Dean demanded again, chest tight around his rapidly beating heart.

“Are you gonna tell it honestly?” Ben asked. Dean cleared his throat and felt his entire body burn for the bottle of whiskey that sat on top of their refrigerator, despite having not touched the stuff for five years. Honesty. He hadn’t been too good at honesty, lately. Not with his wife. Not with his stepson.

And for the past twenty years, not with himself. Not when it came to Cas.

“I’m gonna try, Ben. I promise. But sometimes it’s hard to—I don’t know—” Dean tapped his fingers on the table. He built it himself a few years ago. The callouses on his hands, the satisfaction of a job well-done.

“I ain’t too good with feelings. And it’s hard to put it into words,” Dean finally said.

“What is? You and him?”

“Yeah.” _We’ve been through much together, you and I._ “Yeah, me and him are hard to explain. He’s hard to explain.”

“Fine. So, just start from the beginning. Exactly as it happened.”

Dean nodded around a lump in his throat and smiled.

“Okay.” Dean swallowed. “Castiel was an angel of the Lord.”

* * *

So, after it was all said and done, Dean finally got his apple pie life. They survived their latest catastrophe by the skin of their teeth. They saved the world just as the last of the sand slipped through the hourglass. It wasn’t neat or tidy or wrapped up in a bow – with God dead, not every supernatural and celestial being ceased to exist. Some angels instantly lost their mojo and fell in flames, but not all. Some demons immediately perished, but not every single one of them. Life, supernatural or not, is stubborn. It is a dying flame that will flicker out on its own, and Dean and Sam were tired of extinguishing those flames. They decided to let them flicker. There were other hunters, now. They could do what they wished with those last threads of heaven, hell, and everything in between.

But Sam and Dean? They were too tired.

Sam was so tired that he fell asleep at the wheel of a car just two months later and crashed into a tree on an abandoned road.

Sam Winchester, born from fire, taken by a very human mistake.

It was almost…what? Poetic? Ironic? Honestly, who gave a shit?

The first responders told Dean that Sam died instantly; he may not have even woken up. For all he knew, he fell asleep, and that was that. There was no pain. Maybe it was the most painless moment of that boy’s life. Dean identified his brother’s body on a sunny September morning and collapsed onto the cold, sterile hospital floor, weeping like he never had before. He was tired of holding it all in. Why not cry, right here, right now, in front of all these doctors and nurses? Hell, Sammy would probably be proud of him.

After Dean kissed his brother’s forehead and stepped out of the hospital and into the sun, his shoulders felt lighter and head clearer than he could ever remember. Maybe it was the shock. Or maybe he was just happy that the suffering was finally over.

That weekend, a small church in Kansas overflowed with people showing up for Sam. They filled the pews and the aisles and the back of the church, and then the grassy, rolling cemetery right next to it. So many people they’d saved. So many people with so much love for Sam. Dean swelled with pride as they spoke of Sam. His little brother. His little brother who worked so hard, saved the world, and finally, _finally_ , got to rest.

When the casket was lowered, Dean turned away to wipe at his face and saw a very still figure standing by a faraway tree. He didn’t have to get a closer look to know who it was.

Cas left after the boys saved the world, just like he always did. And Dean let him go, just like he always did. He briefly considered reaching out to Cas a handful of times over the past few months – but Dean didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to do. So he just…didn’t.

Dean hadn’t even called Cas after Sam’s accident. He figured Cas would know, and he was right.

When Dean neared the tree, he vaguely registered that Cas was wearing tan pants, a white button-up, and handsome navy blazer, none of which Dean had ever seen before. Did Cas go shopping? What was that like? Would he have liked Dean to go with him?

Mostly, though, Dean fixated on the angel’s eyes, hard and ocean-blue and full of _so much._ Always full of so much that Dean couldn’t decipher. Or maybe he could. It scared him.

Cas opened his arms and Dean wordlessly fell into them.

It wasn’t until the crowd began to disperse that Dean pulled away from Cas and stood by his side, both of them watching Sam’s grave.

“You’ll see him again, you know.”

“Oh, buddy, please tell me you’re not gonna raise him from the dead, too,” Dean said, and he smiled, glancing at Cas. Cas’ lips turned up slightly.

“No. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dean nodded. He knew all about how it was possible to share a heaven with someone, and he had no doubt that his heaven would be with Sammy. He briefly wondered if Cas would want to be with him in heaven. Cas, who’d lived thousands and thousands of years before Dean ever made the slightest appearance. Dean wondered if Cas could die, even. He was still an angel, after all. Less so. His grace was fading fast, but he was still something. And Dean wondered if he’d have the privilege of sharing heaven with that something.

“Where will you go now?” Cas asked Dean as they slowly began to make their way to the Impala. A gust of autumn breeze ruffled Cas’ hair, blowing it into his curious eyes. Dean shrugged.

“I called Lisa last week.” It was true. Lisa was the closest thing Dean ever had to normalcy. And he couldn't imagine starting from scratch with some new woman. Dean wondered if Cas even knew who Lisa was. If he didn’t, he showed no signs of it.

“Did you tell her? About…well…all of it?”

“I convinced her to meet with me. I think something struck a chord with her. Something made her believe that I wasn’t lying—that I wasn’t crazy. I actually, ah, wanted to ask you about that.”

“What do you need me to do, Dean?” Cas asked, stopping in his tracks and turning his full attention towards Dean. He looked so amazingly _Castiel_ in that moment; standing in the middle of the lush green cemetery, framed with grey headstones, old and new, crumbling and radiant. He tilted his head as he awaited Dean’s answer.

“Can you still restore memories?”

Something indecipherable passed over Cas’s face. He turned and looked over the hill that led to more of the cemetery.

 _Say no,_ Dean suddenly, absurdly thought. _Say no. Say that you can’t do it. Say that you want to get in my car and drive, just drive, and I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Say no._

“Yes.” Cas didn’t meet Dean’s eyes. “Is this what you’d like me to do for you and Lisa?”

_Always happy to bleed for the Winchesters._

“And Ben,” Dean added absently, nodding away the image of Cas in the passenger seat of the Impala. “Her son. Maybe I can finally give them the life they deserve, if she takes me back. Maybe I can give them a good life.”

Cas turned back to face Dean and his eyes were bright with—something.

“You can give them the world, Dean,” He said, and Dean suddenly wanted the conversation to be over. He looked away from Cas’ imploring eyes.

“So can you – I’ll tell her everything. And give her a choice. She doesn’t have to remember if she doesn’t want to. But if she does, if she does want to know, if I tell her everything and she believes me and—Jesus, now that I’m saying it, she’ll probably mace me, huh?” Dean tried to laugh.

“I’ll do it. I’ll restore her memories, if you like.”

They made plans for Cas to come to the diner that Dean and Lisa would meet at. All he needed to do was touch her shoulder and she’d have everything. An accidental brush of a stranger, and Dean would have a brand-new life.

Cas said, before Dean got in his car to put the funeral behind him, “You’ll be so happy.”

It only occurred to Dean as he pulled away, Cas framed in the front windshield, that he never asked what Cas would do now. He never asked if Cas would be happy, too.

 _How could he be,_ Dean thought, _if we aren’t together._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean settles into a new life. He does everything right. 
> 
> But he's drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second installment of this angst-fest! Enjoy! Feel the slow burn!

Once Ben calmed down a bit, he didn’t say much. He laughed when Dean recounted how the glass shattered with the noise of Cas’s true voice. He scowled when Dean remembered stabbing Cas almost instantly after saying hello. He raised his eyebrows, incredulous, at the story of Dean and Cas posing as FBI agents together for the first time. (His eyes clouded over with anger when Dean mentioned that Cas didn’t know how to lie to save his life – Dean hurried on quickly, eager to get off the topic of lying.)

“He…fought heaven. Like, all of heaven. For you.”

Heat rose to Dean’s face.

“He fought heaven for a lot of reasons. It was corrupt. I know that sounds crazy, but it’s true, you’ll see that more later.”

_I’m hunted. I rebelled. And I did it – all of it – for you._

“No, I know, I know. But if you hadn’t convinced him, he never would have done it. And like he said – he was basically getting in trouble because he liked you too much.” Now it was Ben’s turn to blush. “I’m not condoning any of your bullshit – I just – it was so obvious from the very start. How could you guys fuck it up so bad? It could have been so different.”

Dean swallowed hard.

“That’s not fair. Cas didn’t fuck anything up. He was thousands of years old and suddenly his whole world turns upside down. He’d never felt – shit, _anything_ – before. I mean – can you even imagine? For thousands of years you blindly follow directions without any knowledge of another life – and then – and then one day you have choices. And feelings. And doubts. Don’t you think he was confused? Don’t you think he was scared? Didn’t you think for _one second_ that he was lonely and fucking _lost_?”

Dean made a noise in the back of his throat and covered his face with his hands. His wedding ring burned on his skin. He imagined screaming at himself, all those years ago, these exact words. _Coward! He needs you! He can’t keep giving and giving and giving, he’s going to run out sometime and you’ll be sorry! He loves –_

“Dean.” Ben’s voice was sturdy. A raft for Dean to cling to in the stormy waves. He lowered his hands and blinked back angry tears.

“Sorry.”

“Just…” Ben sighed. Dean knew he wanted to say it’s okay or it’s fine, the polite fucker. But he didn’t. Dean didn’t deserve that, and Ben knew it. “Just keep going. Tell me what happened after Sam – or – Lucifer, I guess – blew him up.”

* * *

In the year after the funeral, Dean became part of Lisa and Ben’s life so seamlessly, it was like he’d always been there, tucked neatly inside that white picket fence. He got a job at an autobody repair shop a few miles down the road. He helped Ben apply to colleges, or at least, he tried to, having never been to college. He fixed up their front porch, and then their neighbor’s. He went to dinner parties and laughed as Lisa’s friends flirted with him. He befriended an exceedingly average man named Dan.

He had sex with Lisa regularly and fell asleep beside her warm and solid body, wrinkled and rounded in places, just like Dean’s. She was just as beautiful and wonderful and fiery as he remembered. They talked easily and fought about mundane things like loading the dishwasher and picking up Dean’s muddy shoes from the front door.

Dean did everything right.

Dean did everything normal.

But Dean had nightmares, too. He dreamed about Sam, hell, the Darkness, his parents, the Mark of Cain, and then Sam again. It’s not like he expected the trauma of his past life to go away as soon as he stepped through the quaint little red door and into the pristine white house. He just…wished it would. He always told Lisa about his dreams – that’s what he loved about her. She listened and she made him feel like he was worth something. She validated his fears and she didn’t show him pity. She tried to understand what he’d been through, knowing she never could.

Sometimes he dreamed about Cas drowning. The angel’s tan trench coat billowing in the water around him. Sometimes he dreamed about Cas disappearing into the greyness of purgatory, Dean’s frustration and hurt as vivid as it was then. Sometimes he dreamed about Cas standing in the middle of a circle of flames, burning up as he watched Dean walk away.

And sometimes he dreamed about Cas in a way that he vowed, from the moment he awoke, sweaty and breathless, to never think about again. He pushed those thoughts so far away that he wasn’t sure they ever even happened. He’d gotten good at that.

He never told Lisa about his dreams of Cas. He never even mentioned the angel’s name. She knew nothing of his existence – his monumental existence, greater than anything Dean could ever hope or wish or dream. For reasons Dean couldn’t – wouldn’t – admit, Cas was off-limits in Dean’s new life. He had his chance. They both did.

_So, what, I’m Thelma and you’re Louise, and we’re just gonna hold hands and drive off this cliff together?_

There was no place for Cas here.

It happened the next October, just a little over a year after Sam’s funeral. Dean had just gotten home from late night drinks with Dan, and as he made his way up the front path to his house, his pocket buzzed.

He tried to ignore it. No one called him except Dan and Lisa and maybe work, but it was Dean’s day off, and they respected that there. Demons had never respected Dean’s time off.

But the phone kept buzzing, so Dean fumbled with his keys and dug into his pocket.

“This is Dean,” He answered, and it still felt strange having only one cell phone, and that he got to be Dean Winchester on that one cell phone. No aliases. Just Dean Winchester.

“Hello, Dean.”

_Hello, Dean. Hello, Dean. Hello, Dean._

Dean’s breath caught and his keys clattered to the ground. He knelt to pick them up, jean-clad knees digging into the cobblestone path he finished just a few months ago. By his side, the plants in Lisa’s garden were mostly dead. Dean stayed there on his knees for a long while before speaking.

“Cas?”

How long had it been since he’d breathed that name into the world? Had Cas’s name ever once been said here? Did the house feel different now that Cas was suddenly part of it? He felt dizzy. Tipsy, he told himself, from the drinks. He decided to say it again.

“Cas.”

“It’s good to hear your voice.”

“Cas, where are you? Are you okay?” The question was a reflex by now. Answer phone, hear Cas, make sure Cas is safe and functioning and…well, not dead. Dean heard something akin to a sigh on the other end of the phone.

“I’m fine, Dean. How are you?”

“Yeah, I’m—” He’s what? Domesticated? Just getting home? About to unload the dishwasher and go to bed? It all sounded small and stupid compared to the enormity of hearing Cas’ voice again. Dean couldn’t breathe.

“I’m fine, too.”

“Good.”

Dean’s eyes slammed shut at the realization that he hadn’t contacted Cas in over a year. He just let him go, that day at the cemetery. That handsome navy blazer and those clear eyes in the late summer sunlight.

There was a long pause.

“Cas, I’m sorry I haven’t called. Or – or prayed, or whatever. Do you still get prayers?”

“Yes, Dean, I still get prayers,” Cas said, and Dean could hear him smiling. He wondered if it was a genuine smile or one of his bitter, put-off, sarcastic smiles. Dean wanted to see it so badly that he hurt. “Didn’t get any of yours, though.”

“Yeah,” Dean swallowed. “I – I didn’t know how. I’m not sure what to do with all this and…” And you, the statement went unsaid. “I’ve got Lisa now, and a job…like a real job, one with benefits and shit…and Ben just started college last month…I don’t know, man, it’s all just so…”

“Normal,” Cas finished, and Dean laughed nervously. It wasn’t normal, though, was it? Normal was demons and survival and Cas. Cas, who was in Dean’s life so consistently that Dean had the wonderful, stupid privilege of taking him for granted.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. It was almost small talk, if Dean ignored how much he desperately wanted to be wherever Cas was.

“I’m beginning to settle down myself, I suppose,” Cas said, and Dean felt a very familiar yet terrifying tug in his heart as he pictured himself settling down with Cas, whatever that meant. He ignored the pull.

“There are quite a few messes left that I have been cleaning up. Some demons still roam the earth. Other supernatural entities terrorizing families. Fallen angels.” Cas made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve been trying to manage it all. I’m not a very good hunter. I’m not very good at connecting with the fallen angels. A lot of resentment, there. But I’m trying.”

“Cas, Jesus,” Dean breathed, raising a shaky hand to cover his face. He fell to both knees and when he dropped his hand to his thigh, he looked at the remnants of old daisies in Lisa’s garden. He should have known that Cas would try to save as many people as he could. He should have known that Cas would drive himself into the ground with guilt.

He didn’t know any other life.

“You’re doing the best you – ”

“It’s all right, Dean, I know what you’re going to say.”

“You do, huh?”

“I know your soul like I know the ground beneath my feet, Dean. I’m the one who put it back together, if you remember.”

“I remember,” Dean smiled.

“I also know what you’re going to say because you’re my friend, Dean. I know you. If you remember.”

“I do, Cas,” Dean whispered. “I’m so—”

“Sorry. I know.” Cas was smiling again, and Dean would have sold his soul one thousand times over just to see it. There was another long pause, and when Cas spoke again, the light in his voice was gone. “I’m not quite sure what to do with myself.”

“Yeah, I hear that,” Dean muttered, but before Cas could question him, continued. “I’m still sorry, though. I should’ve called.”

“What would you have said?”

Okay, yeah, that was a good question. What would Dean have said? Would he invite Cas over? He tried to picture Cas at the dinner table with him and Lisa, and his gut twisted painfully. The picture looked much nicer when it was just him and Cas.

Cas chuckled drily at Dean’s silence.

“Exactly. There’s not much to say. I’ll just…continue my work with the other fallen angels, I suppose. Or at least, try to.”

“What do you mean, other?” Dean felt sick and dizzy for the second time that night. “Cas, are you – ”

“No. Not yet. But I will. It’s just a matter of time.”

“What – why?” Stupid question. Maybe Dean just wanted to hear Cas talk more.

“God’s gone. It’s all gone. Angels, demons…we’ll all lose it soon. We’re…running on empty.” Cas paused. “I’ve befriended one named Jessica. She lost the last of her grace two weeks ago. I’m afraid I’m not far behind. I’m afraid—” Cas paused suddenly and Dean wanted to say something, anything, to comfort him, but his stupid one-track mind was stuck. Jessica. Who the hell was Jessica? A friend? A girlfriend? Did they hunt together? Did Cas know her soul like he knows Dean’s? Did they sleep together? It would be different than it was with that bitch April. Cas would be so kind. Did Jessica even deserve that?

Dean immediately hated himself for thinking these things. He had no reason to. Not one. But he wanted so badly to be with Cas right now—touch him, see him smile, see him tilt his stupid head—erase thoughts of Jessica—

“That’s why I called, I suppose. I’m afraid. And you calmed me, whenever I felt something I wasn’t used to. Which was quite often, after I met you.”

“You ever feel like this before, Cas? This graceless?” Dean wanted to cry.

“Of course. When I was human. And all those times I was so weak. But I’ve never lost my grace like this before. This…transition, it’s awful. I’m forgetting things. I’m sick all the time. My body – my soul – is trying to figure out what it is. Where it belongs.”

_With me,_ Dean silently pleads. _Your soul belongs right next to mine._

“You could come here,” Dean said after a long, quiet moment. They both knew the answer.

“No. You don’t deserve that. I’ll be okay. I always am.”

“Cas, what are you talking about – what I deserve? – it’s not like you’re, like, broken, or bad luck, or whatever – just, maybe I could see you, maybe we could just hang out –”

_I’d rather have you, cursed or not._

“No, thank you, Dean. I just wanted to hear your voice.” The words were laced with panic – that seemingly calm, cool panic that Dean got to know so well – as Cas began to come apart.

“Cas, please, I –”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

And he was gone.

Old habits die hard.

Dean’s hands shook as he pulled the phone away from his ear. His knees stung from kneeling on the cold grey pavement.

He missed it sometimes. He told himself he didn’t, but he could only lie about so many things. But the adrenaline, the satisfaction of finishing a job, laughing at Sammy when he looked like an idiot and drooled when he fell asleep. Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.

And Cas. Cas was all that Dean had left of that life, and Dean didn’t even call him. It wasn’t that he didn’t think of him – he did, all the time. But Dean didn’t know where Cas would fit in, in all this normalcy. He didn’t know what he wanted from Cas. A friend? An ally? A fellow hunter?

Something else?

Besides, would Lisa and Ben even like him? Lisa probably wouldn’t. He tried to imagine Cas in the kitchen with him instead of Lisa; handing him ingredients while he made burgers, and Dean wouldn’t let him help, because Cas would be a terrible cook; he’d burn everything. Cas would help the best he could, though, and he would clean up while Dean finally took a moment to lean back on the couch and rest his eyes, listening to the sounds of Cas doing the dishes, waiting for Cas to come join him, and then later they could go upstairs and Dean would see Cas smile and then they would –

Dean promptly vomited all over the front porch.

It was probably the alcohol.

The next day, Dean asked Lisa to marry him. She said yes, with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes, and Dean loved her so much, he really did. They set the date for March; six months away. Dean wanted it to happen sooner rather than later.

He didn’t call Cas again. He worried what he might say. He worried that the truth might slip out, whatever that truth was.

That night, Dean dreamt of Cas in the kitchen.


End file.
